Lock and Load
by ThiessenClocks
Summary: Ethan, Benji, Jane and Skye are on a mission in Sydney, Australia, when they require help from an unlikely source. (T for language)
1. Chapter 1

Richard, this one's for you.

* * *

 **Lock and Load**

"Where to?" Benji asked cheerfully when Jane joined them. The moment she let herself fall in the seat opposite the Brit, the bus started moving.

"We're going back to D.C."

"Oh." Benji sounded a bit disappointed.

"They skipped Australia?" Skye asked, more than disbelieving. "How did they manage that? And the States of all places. Maybe we underestimated them, if they involve Washington."

"You don't understand," Jane said hoarsely. "We're going back to HQ. I'm not going on this mission."

"What?" Benji asked. "Why?"

Outside, the harbour of Sydney sped by. It looked pretty amazing, with the sailboat-shaped opera house fanning open and the sun just coming up, but none of them was paying much attention to the view.

They had met up again after splitting up for the night, going after different tracks. Only now Skye realised how pale the other woman looked. She'd blamed the night spent investigating for that before, but clearly there was more. Jane Carter wouldn't abandon a mission like this without a compelling reason.

"We're going back to D.C.," Jane said quietly, and kept looking out of the window, staring through Sydney's morning traffic without actually seeing it.

Benji and Skye exchanged a glance, worried and confused respectively.

"Jane," Benji began and reached over to her, but she flinched away.

"I'm not discussing this, Benji. I chose _not_ to accept this one." She was upset, he could tell, and probably needed the shouting to get over it, only Skye didn't seem entirely okay with it.

"What's the mission, Jane?" she asked.

Their eyes met, and Benji was aware of a strange tension that suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It was broken by the too cheery voice that announced the next stop. They had to get out.

/\/\/\/\

Benji had to hurry to keep up with Jane's pace. Both he and Skye had given up asking her questions. As they ascended the wooden stairs to the seedy little apartment that functioned as their base, he thought he saw Jane run a hand over her face, as if to brush away a tear. She ripped the door open in a way that made it clear that she'd rather have kicked it in.

"Finally," Ethan greeted them, but his features changed from slight annoyance to surprise when Jane rushed past him to the kitchenette. He saw her pour herself a drink, and looked to Skye and Benji, who closed the door behind them, wordlessly asking for an explanation.

Benji just shrugged, but Skye had already followed the other woman, completely ignoring Ethan's glance.

"What's this about, Jane?"

The question hovered in the air like an accusation, and Jane Carter hesitated a second, then downed her drink and slowly turned around, not without smashing the glass into the sink. Surprisingly it didn't break.

/\/\/\/\

Jane looked at the three people staring at her.

Skye Holt, expectant, demanding, standing closest to her but keeping her distance. She'd better.

Benji Dunn, worried, but also curious, making his way from the door to stand next to their team leader.

Ethan Hunt, eyebrows raised, still waiting for some sort of explanation.

"I can't accept this mission," she said again. She wished her team would just leave it at that. They could get to the airport within twenty minutes, and next time she woke up she'd be back in Washington, at HQ, preferably with a mission waiting for her that involved beating someone up. And if not, there was always the gym. She felt uneasy, being scrutinised like this, and knew she owed them.

She pushed herself off the sink, walked past Skye – resisted the urge to _accidentally_ bump into her shoulder – and took a seat on a run-down armchair.

"We were right about Sydney," she said. "They're here."

Ethan crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"We can get them tomorrow night."

"But that's terrific," Benji blurted out before a warning glance from Ethan silenced him.

"IMF has already infiltrated their gang once, a couple of years ago, before they disappeared," Jane continued, either ignoring the interruption or not realising it. Her gaze was fixed on some point in front of her. "I was part of the team. It was a good operation, by the book. Plant the mole, wait until they trust him, get information, and take them down. IMF got most of them before the rest vanished to pick up the pieces. The best part was, they never found out who it was that crossed them, so in theory we can do the exact same thing again now."

Benji had decided to shut up, and Ethan was still waiting for the catch. So it was Skye who filled the silence.

"Who? Who infiltrated them?" she asked, but Benji noticed something in her voice that made him believe she already knew the answer.

Jane kept her eyes fixed on the far away point when she answered.

"Trevor Hanaway."


	2. Chapter 2

"Oh," Benji finally said, and sat down.

Ethan sighed. "Jane, I know you don't wanna hear this, but we'll have to impersonate him."

"No."

"Jane-"

"No, I mean it won't work. He spent weeks as one of them, they're gonna notice."

"She's right," Benji said. "Trevor was like a head taller than me, so..." He looked at the team leader, who was a couple of inches shorter than him, and shrugged.

Jane didn't even want to imagine that Benji or Ethan would wear Trevor's face. That was downright... _wrong_ , and somehow disrespectful. She felt hot tears welling up within her, along with a wave of rage she couldn't explain.

"Then we need someone else," Ethan concluded. "I'll make some phone calls."

"No," Jane said quietly, but Benji was the only one who heard it.

"Ethan, hold on a second." Uneasily, the Brit looked at Jane. Skye saw something apologetic in his glance. "There is one option we haven't considered yet."

Ethan put the phone back and waited for him to continue.

"There's a brother."

It was then that Jane looked up from the something only she could see. Wide-eyed, she stared at Benji, as if she couldn't believe he'd just said that.

"What do you mean?" Ethan asked, intrigued.

"I mean that there's someone who looks exactly like Trevor Hanaway and whom we could potentially persuade to help us."

"No!" Jane said forcefully.

"Jane, this might be the best chance we have," Ethan said.

"Trevor never mentioned him in all the time I knew him, and apparently the first time he learned that Trevor even existed was when the lawyers found him for the reading of the will -"

"Jane," Benji attempted to interrupt.

"-to which he _didn't even show up_ ," Jane finished her crescendo. "What makes you think someone like that would help us?"

Benji still remembered his surprise when Jane had asked him to come with her when Hanaway's will was read. It was a side of her she rarely showed – that she needed help, or at least someone to be with her. But after all, he'd been there with her when Trevor had been killed. That surprise however was to be outweighed spectacularly when they learned about that ominous brother – who apparently had no idea about his secret agent twin. Jane had pressed the lawyer for answers – all he could tell them back then was that he had indeed found him, living in Los Angeles, but that he had refused to attend the event. And that was everything. Somehow, the whole thing had upset Jane a lot, and Benji hated that he had felt the need to bring up the subject. In a way, it felt like he had betrayed her trust.

"We could still ask," he said meekly.

"He's a civilian," Jane countered.

"He does work for the police," Benji added for consideration.

Ethan tilted his head approvingly. "We'd operate on a need-to-know basis."

Jane looked back at the floor. The rage had gone, but the rest of her chaotic feelings was still there. "I know," she admitted.

"So that's settled. Two of us should stay here to keep an eye on our targets. Someone's gotta go get him." He felt it was Jane's decision to make.

"I'll do it." Jane got up. "Skye?"

The other woman was slightly surprised, she'd rather stuck to the background during that discussion. She met Jane's eyes.

"Will you come with me?"

/\/\/\/\

Skye hadn't been sure what to expect, but it certainly wasn't the guy who opened the door now. It was Hanaway's face all right, as far as she could tell – after all she hadn't known him that well – but the long dirty-blond hair disturbed her a bit. The top-most buttons of his shirt were undone and revealed tanned skin when he leaned against the door frame.

"Hello, ladies," he said with a huge smile and something mischievous in his eyes. "What can I do you for?"

He sounded very southern as he blatantly gave first Skye, then Jane a slow look-over. Agent Holt's first impression was that he was a narcissistic asshole of the type over-bored and self-assured, but despite that there was something sympathetic in the dimples his grin made appear on his cheeks, and something cunning in his eyes that suggested there was more to his personality.

"Detective James Ford?" Jane asked.

"That's right, ma'am."

"We're from the government. This is Agent Holt, I am Agent Carter."

He straightened, his whole posture got slightly more offensive, as if he prepared himself to be ready to strike at any moment.

"We're here on behalf of your brother."

Skye almost shrank back involuntarily when the man's features went so dark, downright hostile at the sound of those words.

"I don't have a brother," he growled, and was about to close the door in their faces, when a similar change went over Jane's face.

Before Skye could properly process what was happening, her fellow agent had hurled herself at Ford. The door swung back at their impact, the knob dug painfully into his back, and before he knew it he had his back against the wall and an arm over his throat, making the whole business of breathing a lot more difficult.

"Jane!" Skye tried to hold her back.

"What the hell is your problem?" Ford got out, and attempted to push the woman away.

"Don't you dare speak about him like that," she hissed, before she let him succeed. Then, without another word, she walked down the hallway.

Skye let herself in as well, closing the door behind her while Ford rubbed his neck and shot her a glare.

"D'ya wanna come in?" he asked with obvious fake-friendliness.

"If you don't mind," Skye replied, matching his sarcasm, and went after Jane.


	3. Chapter 3

For a second James considered the possibility of doing a runner and leaving those two in his apartment, but then he caught up with them in the kitchen. The blond one, Holt, had her back to him, urgently whispering something to the other woman. Both of them were gorgeous in their own way. Too pretty for the government.

"...so pull yourself together, okay? We need him."

"Look, I'll make this quick," he interrupted them, not caring about their conversation. "I never knew that brother of mine, so I don't see no reason to mess with his business, all right?"

"Mr Ford, this is important," Holt said, and only now he realised that her accent was British. Somewhere in the back of his head, he got suspicious.

"I'll tell you what's important, missy," he hissed. "My father shot my mother when I was eight and then killed himself right in front of me. You don't wanna know what that made me become. _Decades_ later, this _lawyer_ suddenly appears at my door, telling me that I got a _long_ lost brother, who's recently died.

"If there's one thing I could have used in my life, it's a brother. Then I learn I had one, only he got murdered. And I will never know why no one ever told me a thing about him, why we got separated, or why he never looked me up, because there's no goddamn one left that I could ask. You know what that feels like? When there's no one left to ask?"

He'd stunned the blond one, which gave him a sort of grave satisfaction, but Carter, taller, darker than her colleague, held his glare mercilessly.

"I do know what that feels like," she said. "And if I were you, I'd take every chance to find out what I can about Trevor."

It was hearing the name that made him cut it down for some reason. He dragged a chair back and sat down. "What's he got to do with the government, anyway?"

"He was part of our agency," Holt explained.

"My brother was a government agent." He crossed his arms and waited for someone to disprove him, to reveal the punchline. "You're shitting me, right?"

"We're not," Holt said with a hint of impatience in her voice, and sat down as well.

Carter remained standing. "And that's why we're here. We came to ask for your help with a mission."

"A _mission_?" He pronounced the word as if he was talking about some stupid game for little children. "And what could I _possibly_ do to help you?"

"We need you to impersonate him."

The sentence hung in the air for quite a while when no one felt the need to comment. Then, finally, James got himself to answer. "Get out of here."

"He infiltrated a gang a couple of years ago," Carter said, pretending not to have heard him. "A group of organised grifters who relieved numerous renowned people of combined several million dollars."

"Grifters," Ford repeated, suddenly interested. "You mean, like, con men?"

"Exactly. We managed to arrest most of them thanks to him, but they have resurfaced and are trying to rebuild their organisation."

"They never found out that it was Hanaway who crossed them," Holt continued. "So you would pick up where he left off."

"And you don't think it would look a bit _off_ to them if I suddenly showed up and want a piece of the action?" He still couldn't shake off the sarcasm in his voice.

"All of them lay low for years," Holt said. "On the contrary, it would seem only natural that you came back now that you've heard they're regathering."

"We could bust them all in one go tomorrow night if you come with us."

"Tomorrow," he exclaimed. "That's a bit short-notice." He smirked.

"It's one night only," Holt said, equally sarcastic. He liked that.

"All right," he said.

The two women exchanged a quick glance.

"All right?" Holt asked. "Just like that?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I mean, what the hell."

"Okay..." Holt said doubtfully. "Well, then let's go."

/\/\/\/\

"Ethan, you should take a look at this."

Something in Benji's voice made the team leader expectant of trouble. He got next to him to have a look at the computer screen.

"I ran a full background check on that guy, Ford."

"I thought you already did that when you got us his address?"

Benji nodded. "And on the first glance everything seemed all right. But there's something fishy if you take a closer look, if you know what I mean."

Ethan wasn't sure he did, because the file Benji had charmed up seemed just fine, even on closer examination. But Benji already continued anyway, suddenly drawing up even more files from various official institutions, crossed with newspaper articles in a succession that made sense only to him.

"There are gaps, so I started digging deeper. That guy was in a plane crash more than ten years ago. I even remember that, it was all over the news back then. Oceanic flight 815."

"So?" Ethan asked, skimming the headlines of articles concerning the disappearance of said plane.

"There were only six survivors of that flight," Benji continued.

"The Oceanic Six," Ethan now recalled.

"Exactly. Only James Ford wasn't one of them."

"What are you saying?"

"The Oceanic Six turned up a couple of months after the plane crash. _He_ reappeared more than three years later."

"I don't understand."

"Me neither, but there's plenty of room for conspiracy theories. Apparently it was hushed up in a big way, it took me ages to get this far, and I hardly found a thing about his come-back. The things I came across contradict each other, and nothing is complete. It's a miracle those lawyers found him when Hanaway died," he added, more to himself.

"That _is_ strange... but what does that have to do with us?"

"I'm getting there: During my research I found some old police reports." Benji's excitement changed into something darker. "He was a confidence man, Ethan. He's one of them."

/\/\/\/\

"So where's the party staged?" Ford asked when he pushed himself up, careful not to knock over one of the stacks of slightly frayed paperback books.

"Sydney," Carter answered. "Our flight's an hour from now."

"Son of a bitch," he muttered. Holt turned back around to him. "I knew it. I fucking knew it. Widmore sent you, didn't he?" The hatred had suddenly re-entered his eyes as he raised his voice. "Thinks he's so clever, sending two chicks with some story about my so-called brother. But you can give him a message from me." He took two steps towards Holt. "You can tell him that I'm not going back to that goddamn island, no matter what he thinks he'll find there. I was there when it was torn to pieces and I don't give a _damn_ if it showed up again. There's already enough people dead. And if he dares messing with my life one more time, Widmore is gonna end up one of them, and that's a promise."

Skye had about enough of his ravings. He'd gotten decidedly too close. If he cared about body contact, he could have it. She eliminated the remaining distance between them with one last step, seized his wrist and twisted it. Before he knew it, she had him face first against the wall with his arm behind his back, and every attempt to move would result in pain. He tried anyway, but Holt didn't waver.

"Son of a bitch," he cursed again, mixed with a groan. "What's _wrong_ with you people?"

"Now you listen to me, Ford. I have no idea what you're talking about. No one sent us. If you don't want to help us, fine, just say so and we're off fixing ourselves a plan B. But unfortunately you're our best chance of success. Which means that right now you're either in or out." She let go without warning, and he tumbled for a second before regaining his balance.

"Did they teach you that in Hobbit School?" he complained, rolling his shoulder.

"Are you coming or not?" Holt asked.

"All right, ladies, calm down," he said, shaking his head. "You're both crazy. But I'm in."


	4. Chapter 4

None of them had any baggage to claim, so security had gone comparatively quick. Now the three of them sat in the waiting area. Carter had been remarkably quiet ever since they left Ford's flat, which was why he turned to Holt to ask his question.

"When did you get here?"

"We flew in this morning."

"Going for the miles, are you?" She didn't return his smile. James sighed. "There's not that many flights back and forth."

"I flew the plane here myself. It was the fastest way. We're on a bit of a tight schedule." The hint of a smile. A start, James found.

"You can fly a plane?"

"Indeed I can. It was my senior project at Hobbit School."

Ford grinned broadly, then he looked pretty thoughtful all of a sudden.

Skye took in his slow, approving nod. "What is it?"

"In my experience it's always good to know a pilot."

She regarded him quizzically, then turned away again. He followed her glance at Agent Carter, and thought she looked worried about her. The black-haired woman sat leaned back against the plastic, fixating the empty chair opposite her. He thought Holt would talk to her, but they kept quiet.

Then the call for boarding sounded. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" Holt asked.

Surprised, he looked at her. "You know that moment when you think you've been through enough crazy shit in your life, but it just keeps happening and you're wondering why you keep going along with it?"

"Believe me," she said, and this time she smiled. "I know that moment."

/\/\/\/\

One continent away, Ethan Hunt put down his phone. "That was Skye. They got him. They're at the airport and they're about to take off."

"That's it?" Benji asked, because according to the slightly confused expression on his friend's face it clearly wasn't.

"She also said we should check the hide-out's supply for hair-dye and to brace ourselves."

"Did you tell her?" Benji wanted to know.

"Not yet. I want to see that guy for myself."

"What- but what if he tries anything?"

Ethan grinned. "I don't wanna be the guy that tries to mess with Skye and Jane. We can call ourselves lucky if he gets here in one piece."

Benji smiled, but a little doubt remained.

/\/\/\/\

On the plane Skye had to think back to the three occasions she'd met Trevor Hanaway.

The first time had been years ago, when she'd met up with Connor for dinner at Pizza Hut after he'd been back in town from a mission and they hadn't seen each other in a while. Connor had always dragged everyone to Pizza Hut, no matter what the occasion was. Hanaway had been with him on that one, and had accompanied him to dinner. Connor had introduced him as "the best shot in the whole outta history". He'd grinned at that, but refused their invitation to stay. It had been a thing of ten minutes.

The second time had been some time after Skye had been back from Samara, the mission where Connor had died. She'd almost run into Hanaway on some hallway at IMF HQ. Before she knew it, he'd bought her a cup of coffee and told her how sorry he was. That he was trying to get the lead of the recovery mission, since Skye hadn't been allowed to leave the country until the circumstances of what had happened in Samara were clear. That he was aware that they didn't exactly know each other, but that he'd considered Connor a friend who had always spoken fondly of her, so if she ever needed someone to share a drink with, she knew where to find him.

The last time she'd seen him was two weeks after that – the day Hanaway and his team returned from the recovery mission. He had stopped by to give her Connor's old dog tags. He had been wearing them when he died, not a very smart thing for secret agents to do in terms of being identifiable, but apparently he hadn't particularly cared. By taking them, Hanaway had most likely saved her a lot of trouble.

To this day Skye didn't know what to make of that. She'd been pretty shaken back then, and most likely not the best person to try and have a conversation with, so she couldn't even be sure if she had been nice. (Presumably she had not.) But altogether, Hanaway seemed to have been a really great guy.

Next to her, Ford heaved himself out of the seat. His knuckles were white from gripping the armrests and he looked overall a bit pale.

"Just gonna get some water in my face," he explained when he caught her glance, and disappeared between the rows.

"Do you think he's sane?" Jane asked the second he was out of earshot. She kept looking out of the window. It was the first time she'd spoken in quite some time.

"I think he's just a bad flyer, that's all."

"I meant that talk about an island back then."

"I don't know. He seems to have been through quite something."

"Mh."

"And I guess I would get suspicious as well if I got recruited out of the blue like that," Skye gave to consider.

"You're probably right."

Skye hesitated for a moment. "Are you okay?"

"He looks just like him. It's... it's so..." Jane faced her. "It's been four years since he died. I thought I was over it. But the moment his name came up last night when I got the new intel – the moment I saw his face..."

Skye was touched that Jane suddenly shared her feelings with her. She wasn't sure where it had come from but she wanted to be there for her. She thought she understood, too.

"It just takes so long. To be okay again. And this isn't helping."

"I know," Skye said quietly.

"Thank you for coming along. I couldn't have smashed him into the wall again."

"That's what I'm here for," Skye smiled, and to her relief Jane smiled back for a second.

/\/\/\/\

It had been a model flight, lacking turbulences of any sort, and still Skye had rarely seen someone so relieved and yet in need of a drink when they had landed in Sydney. Even when they got in the car – Jane was driving – she noticed that Ford still doggedly tried to calm down. He was good though. At keeping up his façade.

Jane parked on the street outside their base.

"So what happens now?" Ford asked. Apparently the end of the drive had coincided with the end of his reverie.

"Now we'll meet up with the others again," Skye said while she got out of the car. Jane and Ford followed.

"The others?"

"The rest of the team," Jane said. "And we'll have to get you – prepared." At the top of the stairs she assaulted the door again, and the team was reunited.


	5. Chapter 5

James took in the shabby apartment, before he focused his attention on the two men at the table. One of them was slightly taller, with dark blond hair and matching stubble over his face, who didn't make much of an effort to hide his surprise, or maybe even shock, at seeing him. There was something about him that reminded him of Charlie, in a strangely grown-up way. Like a more mature version of him, less pale, more athletic.

He hadn't thought of Charlie Pace in ages. Why now? _Probably because you've just crossed the Pacific and didn't end up stranded on a triple-cursed island for a change,_ he thought grimly.

The other one was more composed. His dark hair was short, and he had something authoritative about him, but he too couldn't keep himself from staring.

James cleared his throat. "All right, I already met Lady Croft and Little Miss Sunshine, so who are you?"

The blond one looked for an instant as if he wanted to burst out laughing, but his obvious inner struggle prevented it. For the first time it really occurred to James that these people had known his brother, who reputedly had looked exactly like him – and that made him inevitably real.

The dark-haired guy got up and offered him a hand. James took it. "We appreciate your help with this, Mr Ford."

"I haven't done anything yet."

"I'm Agent Hunt, this is Agent Dunn." The blond guy waved briefly from behind the computer that was set up on the table.

"Did you get what I asked?" Holt inquired, and got around to them.

Hunt nodded, "We had some with the supplies," and held a small package out to her, but Carter snatched it away and examined it in her place.

James only caught a glimpse of it, but thought it was hair-dye. Whatever that was about.

Holt shrugged briefly and got around to Agent Dunn. "Hey, stranger," she said, and playfully ran a finger along his cheek. Women could be so cruel, James found. It was obvious this poor guy had a thing for Holt, judging from the way he looked at her, and there she went as if she didn't know about it. Not that he could blame him. Holt was certainly something to look at.

"It's good," Carter now said, and handed the package to the other woman.

"What's that about?" James asked, still standing somewhat pointlessly around.

"We're gonna have to change your hair," Holt explained amiably enough.

"What's wrong with my hair?" He sounded offended.

"You wanna look like Hanaway, remember?" Hunt said.

Agent Dunn tapped a couple of keys, then he turned the laptop around for him to see. James stepped closer – and then he had to sit down. He didn't like admitting it, even to himself, but seeing his own face looking at him from something inscribed 'Agent Profile' hit something. Across the watermark-style emblem of their agency, which he didn't recognise, was the word DISAVOWED screaming at him in red letters. He had to swallow.

/\/\/\/\

Ethan watched somewhat amused how Skye cut James Ford's hair, either retorting his remarks with even more sarcasm or mostly ignoring them completely. Only when she reminded him that she was handling a very sharp pair of scissors he quit his attempts to flirt with her. Benji snickered quietly, while thick blond strands of hair sailed to the ground around Ford.

"So you people knew him." It didn't sound like a question, but clearly demanded an answer.

Benji threw a careful glance in Jane's direction.

"I've worked with him a couple of times," Ethan offered. "Good man."

"He was with us on my first mission," Benji told him. "That was also the mission he -" The Brit interrupted himself, but Jane had already gotten up. The door fell shut behind her.

"...he died," Benji finished meekly. "I'll be right back." With that he went after her.

"They had something going one, didn't they? Him and Carter?" Ford couldn't look at Skye in his current position, so he turned to Ethan.

"I don't know," Ethan replied truthfully, although he'd always suspected that that had indeed been the case. "But out of the four of us, Jane knew him best. She and Benji were there when he was killed. It's been years, but..."

"It's never easy," Ford finished, looking at the floor.

"Stay still," Skye ordered gently.

"What about you?" Ford asked – to distract himself from whatever he had just been thinking about, Ethan was sure – and got upright again.

"I only met him a couple of times," she admitted, never ceasing to cut. "But he was really nice."

" _Nice_?"

Skye resisted the urge to ask him if he bathed in sarcasm every morning. Maybe part of it was just his southern drawl. "He once bought me coffee after a very good friend of mine had died. Although we barely knew each other. If that's not nice I don't know what is."

Ford was quiet.

/\/\/\/\

"Do you mind?" Benji asked when he came after Jane.

She sat on the top step of the staircase right outside their apartment, breathing deeply. In answer to his question, the woman simply shrugged, and he sat down next to her, giving her some space.

"I'm sorry."

"It's all right."

He hesitated before he continued. "Jane, if you want to go back to Washington, I'm sure we can find a way. We can handle this."

Jane was quiet for some time. "No. I'll stay here." After a while she added, "Benji, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Who's Lady Croft?"

"Lara Croft," he said softly. "Angelina Jolie in Tomb Raider."

"Mh." Jane nodded. "Is that good?"

"It's an understatement," Benji smiled.

/\/\/\/\

Ford was looking back and forth between his reflection in the mirror and the agent profile on Dunn's computer, and was slightly speechless. Although everything that had changed was the length and colour of his hair – now short and a deep brown – he seemed like someone completely different. And this time it didn't give him quite the thrill he'd felt so often back in the day when he played parts for a living, and not in a theatre, that was for sure.

Holt stood in front of him, scrutinising her work. "What do you think?"

He wasn't sure if she meant him or Hunt, but didn't feel compelled to answer.

"It's remarkable," a British accent sounded. Dunn and Carter had come back. "Shave and you could be twins. I mean – you are... but, you know."

It discomforted James that this guy was English as well, even though he lacked Charlie's heavy Manchester accent. He needed to get a grip on himself.

He focused his attention on Carter. Jane, Hunt had let slip. Their eyes locked for a second.

"If this isn't gonna work, I don't know what will," she commented, apparently relieved of all previous discomfort. She was a pretty good actress.

/\/\/\/\

"Before we explain everything to you, I have a couple of questions," Ethan began.

"Have you now," Ford smirked.

"You work for the LAPD."

"That's right."

"And how do you get to work for the police when you used to be a con man?"

Jane looked disbelievingly at the team leader. "What?"

The already well-known shadow crept back over Ford's face. "You seem to know a great deal about me."

"What made you help us?" Ethan persisted. "What's your plan?"

"Listen, buddy, I used to be a con artist all right," Ford snarled. "But that was a long time ago. You might even say a life-time. I started out as an advisor to help the police get people like I used to be and worked myself all the way up to detective. So what am I doing here? My goddamn job, that's what."

A crackling silence filled the air for several seconds. "Okay," Ethan said.

"Okay?!" Ford felt as if this guy was messing with him, and he didn't like it.

"You knew about this?" Jane asked.

"We found out just after you'd left for L.A.," Hunt explained calmly.

"And you didn't feel the need to tell us?" Skye asked, with a side-glance at Benji.

"It was my decision," Ethan said. "I felt you'd get along. And I wanted to see for myself."

"You felt?!" Jane raised her voice.

"Now, as for the mission," he went over her. "This is the guy we're after." He slid a file, this one on good old paper, across the table. "Cole Evans. The current leader of the group. We have a contact in the local police. We're gonna have them standing by – problem?" Ethan interrupted himself when he saw Ford's slightly pained expression at the mention of police.

"No, I'm pretty sure they forgot about that by now."

Ethan decided to ignore the statement, along with Skye's and Jane's annoyed faces. "We'll have the building surrounded. Once all of them are in one room we're gonna bust them."

"Sounds like a plan."

"In that case I suggest we all catch some sleep before things get in motion."

"Do I get to have my own room?" Ford inquired, again with that soaked-in-sarcasm voice. His eyes grazed the three makeshift beds and the sofa that had seen better days which stood lined up at the far wall of the room.

"You can have my bed," Skye offered.

"Then where're you gonna sleep?"

"We can share the sofa," Benji agreed.

Ethan nodded, but Ford looked as if someone had just told him the best joke he'd heard in years.

"No way," he said, looking at Benji with that condescending grin. "You and Dr. Schneider?"

"I'm not Austrian," Skye said without batting an eyelid. "And if you prefer the floor, be my guest."

The grin died on his face.


	6. Chapter 6

"Tonight's the night," Ethan declared the next morning. He and Jane had taken over the task to fill him in on the details. The team leader had wanted her there because she had been part of the initial team tasked to take those people down. He was aware that this wasn't exactly easy for Jane, but he was glad that she took it professionally. He noticed that she could still hardly look at Ford, but she appeared to be all right for now. Jane Carter wasn't a person that wanted to be treated specially because of something like this. On the contrary, that would only make it harder on her, and Hunt knew that.

"It's six of them," Jane began, and spread the respective mug shots across the table.

Ford, having turned his chair around and resting his forearms on the back of it, scrutinised them attentively. At least he took this seriously, Ethan noted.

"Schmitz, Harris, LeBlanc, Reid, Jordan, and Evans." She pointed each of them out. "You have to watch out for Evans and Reid, the others will do whatever they say. If you have those two in, we got all of them."

Ford repeated the names under his breath, taking in the photographs.

"Don't forget, you know these people, and they know you. They got no idea who it was that got them busted all those years ago, so under all circumstances you need them to believe that you had nothing to do with it."

"Got it," Ford smirked.

"You're gonna take over Hanaway's cover," she continued. "He called himself David Mills."

Something flashed in Ford's eyes for a second. Then the front door opened and Skye and Benji returned.

"Tracer successfully planted," Skye announced. "We now know exactly where Evans is. Police are on stand-by."

"And we brought breakfast," Benji added happily.

"Perfect," Jane said, and was the first to grab one of the paper cups that smelled deliciously of coffee.

"Evans is a man of habit," Ethan continued, while the others distributed sandwiches. "The tracer is just a fail-safe. Usually he spends his afternoons in a bar not far from here. That's where you're gonna meet up with him, and convince him to go to a meeting with Jeffrey Spoone."

"And who's Spoone?" Ford wanted to know.

"There is no Spoone."

"There is no Spoone?"

"No. He's a phantom with a convincing reputation in those circles, created by our agency. Benji's gonna play that part."

"Nice one, Neo," Ford grinned.

Ethan looked confused and turned to Benji.

"Neo. Keanu Reeves in Matrix," the Brit explained chewing. "Because of the spoon, you know?"

Ethan shook his head for a second, then turned back to Ford. "You'll tell him you're gonna need everyone for a special job – Jane's gonna fill you in on the details. If you play your part well, he'll believe you and we'll have them exactly where we want."

"Mh-hm," Ford said. "One thing. I need an exit strategy."

"What do you mean?"

"I _mean_ that these people aren't stupid, if they do what you say they do. They're not gonna let me go just like that, now that I _mysteriously_ returned, with the job of their lifetime at that."

"He's got a point," Jane supported to Ford's slight surprise.

"That can be arranged," the team leader said, and looked at Skye.

In response, she only sighed and nodded.

"So that's settled. We'll leave at sixteen hundred hours."

"Until then you have to know these by heart," Jane declared, and motioned back to the files scattered between them.

"Don't worry," Benji chimed in, "we also brought munchies." As if he'd been waiting to say that – which was probably the case – he picked up a bag and emptied crisps, pistachios and lots of Mars bars on the table.

Ethan rolled his eyes amiably.

"Well," James said, slightly baffled and amused by the sheer amount of gorp. "We better get going."

/\/\/\/\

Ford and Carter spent the better part of the remaining time rehearsing names, character profiles, the exact procedure of Hanaway's undercover mission and the schedule for tonight. He was good, Jane had to admit, and for some reason she started trusting him with this mission. She'd had her doubts, keeping her awake long after the others had gone to sleep, thanks to Ethan's revelation that Ford used to be a con man himself. But he seemed to have pulled himself together today, determined to go through with this and make it a success. Of course, she let none of this show.

"One last time," she began, but Benji, who had been in and out of the flat along with the others, but had kept them company for the last hour, interrupted.

"He knows it, Jane. It's gonna work like a charm," he stated cheerfully and snatched another pistachio out of the bowl.

"What's Q so happy about?" Ford asked.

"He gets to wear a mask," Holt explained from the kitchenette where she'd been cleaning left-over dishes, mainly because there was nothing else to do at the moment.

"Okay then," Jane gave in hesitantly. "But don't forget to cut it down on the accent."

"It's hard to get his voice right," Ford admitted.

Promptly Ethan emerged from the other room, carrying something Ford couldn't identify at first glance. The team leader dropped it in front of the techie, whose smile grew only wider.

Ford was slightly disturbed by the empty eyes of the hollow rubber face staring at him. "You really wanna wear this thing, Dunn?"

"Benji," the Brit offered, then realised his next pistachio was still closed and bit it open with a cracking noise.

"Benji," Ford repeated. "That short for something?"

"Benjamin, but nobody calls me that."

"I'll stick to Q, if you don't mind."

He shrugged. "Suit yourself."

"Are we good to go?" Ethan asked.

"Lock and load," Jane nodded.


	7. Chapter 7

Even in Australia's late summer afternoon sun, the place was cool and dusky, and even seedier than the team's base, briefly stirring up the memory of the last time James had been in an establishment of this sort in this city. At this time of day there were very few patrons around, but Evans was sitting reliably at the bar. Ford walked in, past Benji who was already seated near the door and of course paid no attention to him. Provocatively, he took a seat right next to Evans.

"You got any good whiskey?"

The zombie-esque bar man simply nodded, and turned around to pick the bottle. Satisfied, Ford felt the stare Evans was giving him.

The man took a large sip from the glass in front of him. "Rumour has it you're dead."

"Be a friend and buy a dead man a drink."

The bar man placed a glass in front of Ford.

"Give me one of those, too," Evans said to him.

Without batting an eyelid, the stoic man placed the bottle between them. Evans refilled his glass.

"What are you doing here?"

"Isn't that obvious? I'm catching up with old friends." He raised his glass, grinned, and drank half of it.

Evans simply shook his head, disbelieving.

"Where have you been all the time?"

"I could ask you the same thing, and you wouldn't tell me one bit."

"Still same old Mills," Evans now laughed.

"They call me Sawyer these days."

" _What is he doing?_ " Benji whispered into the comm.

" _He's improvising_ ," Jane's voice sounded bitterly. She was standing at the other end of the room, apparently absorbed in some newspaper, blocking the back door.

"Sawyer," Evans said, testing the sound of it. "All right. Good to see you again."

"Wish I could say the same."

Evans looked puzzled.

"A _fine_ leader, who doesn't recognise that he's been tricked and gets his pals handed to the authorities."

"Hey, I had nothing to do with it." He looked suspicious. "You know who ratted us up?"

Ford leaned in conspiratorially. "Do you?"

Evans turned back to his drink. "I still suspect Jordan. He's never been true to his word."

"So you killed him."

Evans laughed briefly. "I've always liked you, Mills. Sawyer. You're pragmatic."

Ford shrugged, and downed the rest of his drink.

"I didn't kill him. He's good at denying everything. You know you can't win an argument with him." He picked up the bottle and refilled both glasses. "So I kept him close by."

"So you know where all the boys are?"

He nodded. "I've found them, one by one. Took me long enough."

Ford smirked.

"You're on to something, aren't you?"

"Indeed I am."

"Forget it," he said immediately. "Schmitz got all respectable out of nowhere, trying to build himself a business. Bad idea, I told him, but he won't listen. And the rest of them..."

Ford's grin never seized. "They just need a job. A well-paid one."

"There are no well-paid jobs for us anymore. Half of the gang is doing time," he sounded slightly exasperated, and drank again.

"I know this guy."

"You always know a guy," Evans rolled his eyes.

"I know, but _this_ guy. He is what could get us back on the road again. But we need the whole gang, otherwise he won't talk to me about details."

"Sounds a bit fishy."

"Oh, you wanna talk? You come in here every damn day, drinking yourself to death in broad daylight. I'm not sure you're in the position to be picky."

Evans stared at him wide-eyed.

"I've had an eye on you for a while now, Evans. I saw you before you even got up this morning."

" _He's enjoying this, isn't he?_ " Skye murmured outside the bar where she was waiting with Ethan.

Evans took one more slug of whiskey. "Who's this guy supposed to be?"

"He calls himself Jeffrey Spoone."

Evans almost choked on his drink. "And how did _you_ get to negotiate terms with Jeffrey Spoone?"

"Don't insult me. And also I haven't negotiated anything yet. Which is why I'm here."

"They say he once shot a man because of eighty dollars."

"I thought you liked pragmatic."

For about five seconds, Ford held Evans' glare.

"When?" he finally asked.

"Tonight. Nine p.m. The Dusty Dragon."

"You didn't fall in with a bad crowd, did you?" Evans grinned, hinting at the Dragon's reputation.

"Bring the gang. And don't be late," Ford grinned back. Then he swung himself off the chair and made to leave.

"Hold it there, you're coming with me." He grabbed Ford's jacket, but the shadow that action sent over his face made Evans let go immediately. Still he persisted, "Can't wait to see the boys' faces when you show up."

Grinning, Ford sat back down. "You really think they could stomach that?"

/\/\/\/\

" _I'm afraid we need that exit strategy after all_ ," Jane said, who had been watching the entire time.

Outside, Skye looked agonised when she turned to the team leader. "Can't you go in?"

"I think he might be more susceptible if you chat him up," Ethan replied.

"Can't you start a bar fight or something?"

"We're one a schedule."

She sighed deeply at his asking glance, and ignored her annoyance when she detected the hint of a grin twitching around his mouth. _I'm only doing this for Jane_ , she told herself. That helped. She could hardly burden Carter with that task. Defeated, she opened her ponytail and shook her hair briefly to loosen it. Entering the bar, the agent undid the top button of her blouse.

/\/\/\/\

"Excuse me?" a thin British-scented voice sounded.

Evans turned around. So did Sawyer. So did everyone else in the bar. Even the bar tender seemed to wake up.

"Um, hi," said the woman who had entered when she'd tentatively walked up to the bar. Nervously, she played with a strand of her long white-blond hair. "Could I just use your phone for a minute, please?"

"And who would you need to call?" the bar man said with a slimy grin creeping over his face, revealing bad teeth.

Evans could see the poor girl shrinking back. "I, um... it's just, my car broke down – I'm not from round here..."

Just when he wanted to speak up, the man formerly known as David Mills turned to her.

"I can give you a ride, sweetheart."

Bastard. Bloody typical that the day he chose to rise from the dead was the day a gorgeous woman stumbled into this dump.

"You'd do that?" she said, adorably relieved.

Naive chick. Would have been exactly his type.

"Of course," he said, giving her a dazzling smile. "You got that, don't you," he added into Evans' direction, indicating the considerably decimated contents of the whiskey bottle. "And don't forget about tonight. Nine o'clock sharp." With one smooth motion he slid off the chair again and simultaneously put an arm around her shoulders. "Now. Where're you headed, sweetheart?"


	8. Chapter 8

"Remove the arm."

"That really wasn't bad," he said approvingly. "Even I believed you."

"The _arm_ ," Holt said warningly, once they were far enough away, and Ford let go of her.

He rolled his eyes but had to grin when she shook herself, and sped up her pace to bring some distance between them.

"Sawyer?" Carter asked, appearing next to him. She'd slipped out earlier through the back door and had joined Ethan and Benji.

"Long story."

"Huh," she said, and went to catch up with Skye.

James shook his head, and turned to Benji instead. "Hey, you and Scully – is that serious?"

"Don't get your hopes up," the Brit said, and looked amused.

"Scully?" Ethan asked.

"Gillian Anderson. X-Files," Benji recited.

James huffed. "Seriously, is he the only one who's ever watched TV?"

Benji chuckled and Ford smiled with a hint of surprise that his joke had sold.

"Hey man, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Ford replied.

"What's the deal with the plane crash?"

Ford stopped short. Benji turned around to him. The others already proceeded to the car.

"Son of a - how the _hell_ do you know about that?" The expression on his face was hard to describe.

"Sorry," Benji said, a bit taken aback. "I don't mean to – I won't tell anyone."

"That's not what I asked."

He simply shrugged, not seeming impressed at all at Ford's sudden fury. "I'm good with computers." He chuckled. "You probably don't want to know what you can find if you know the right tricks."

A minute ago he had decided he liked that guy. Now he wasn't so sure anymore. "You know what a pain in the ass it is when you gotta sort out that you're alive when you've been officially declared dead?"

"Not really," he admitted. "That sounds more like Ethan's department. Maybe Skye knows a thing or two from back when she still worked in the office."

James decided to ignore the fact that he'd taken that question seriously and what that told him about these people's daily business. "Her name's Skye?"

"Hey, don't get side-tracked."

Ford started walking again. "I even got a gravestone."

"Wow," Dunn said drily. "That's... macabre."

"Damn right it is." Judging from the agent's expression he still thought he was gonna tell him. "All right. I'll tell you."

His eyes lit up like a little kid's.

"If you tell me about that agency of yours."

He looked at him curiously, then he started laughing. "Yeah," he stretched the word. "Nice try." With that he got in the car.

James did like him. He just wasn't sure why.

/\/\/\/\

Benji closed his eyes, enjoying the unknown sensation. He wasn't quite sure if it was the only the fact that he finally, for the first time since field training, got to wear a mask, or if Skye gently pressing it to his face had something to do with it as well. He couldn't help smiling.

"Will you stay still already," she chuckled. "Didn't they teach you anything?"

"I'm sorry, it's just so-"

"And no talking. I'm not finished just yet." With well practised motions, she pressed the second layer onto his skin.

"Right. Sorry."

"Benji," she said warningly.

He was about to apologise again, but clenched his teeth in order to avoid movement.

"Okay," she finally declared, "you can open your eyes."

Benji did so. It felt incredible. Finally, he got to be someone else, properly, in action. With a mask. He had to watch himself in order not to fall into his old habit of babbling.

"That's just disturbing," Ford dead-panned. He stood with his arms crossed a couple of paces away from them and had been watching the entire procedure wearily.

"I hate to agree with him, but yes, it is," Holt said. Benji's face had changed into something edgier, broader, clean shaven, topped off by short cropped hair the colour of dark rust and matching bushy eyebrows. The only thing that could have given him away were his dark blue eyes, which Skye tried to focus on now.

"Oh come on, it's awesome," he said joyfully when he saw himself in the mirror.

"Yes, that's gonna work," Ethan agreed, having had some experience with Jeffrey Spoone already. He'd just gotten off the phone with their police contact. Everything was set.

Skye noted with some relief that Benji's wide smile was recognisable despite the mask, still she was weirdly glad once he and Jane left to be the first to arrive for the meeting.


	9. Chapter 9

The Dusty Dragon used to be a flourishing club in the seventies. Back then it had still been called The Dragon, but when the neighbourhood it was located in had increasingly decayed during the nineties and the respectable clientele had seized to come, it had eventually closed. No one would buy it, and in the end the owner simply gave up on it, deciding that a renovation wouldn't result in much profit. Soon the abandoned building had fallen into the hands of the underworld. Drug dealers had made it their office, rechristening it The Dusty Dragon. After a while the police had grown fond of busting the place, and things had quieted down, but over the past couple of years they seemed to have forgotten about it again, and it slowly had been reclaimed by the occasional criminal. By now it mainly lived up to its name in terms of collecting dust.

The latest change in its history was that a new club had opened not far from it, and for some reason it attracted a massive amount of people. Perhaps it was the attraction of a shady part of town that made rebellious teenagers go there to dance through the night, maybe it was the fact that no one seemed to care about the underage drinking.

While the latter surely was the most common reason, for Molly Crown it was the first. She'd never been particularly fond of alcohol, but all the more of dancing in strange new clubs. This, and her beloved bright green Mini One, inevitably made her the driver of the group, but she didn't mind.

She found a parking spot in front of the legendary Dusty Dragon, not far from where they were headed tonight.

"I'm just gonna change my shoes," Molly said, pulling up the handbrake. "Don't wait for me."

"Okay!" Jenna cheered, already well warmed up on vodka orange from a plastic bottle that had been handed around the entire drive. Two seconds later, Molly was alone.

"Actually I meant – never mind." Drunk friends could be annoying, but in a couple of hours they would turn adorable. Or sick. Sighing, she decided to take her time. Molly checked her make-up one last time in the rear-view mirror. Content with the examination, she readjusted it, sending the small X-Wing model dangling from it dancing. She smiled and fluffed up her stark-red hair, then she opened the driver's door to have more space and started unlacing her comfortable trainers to exchange them for high heels.

/\/\/\/\

Ford sparked up a cigarette. He took a deep drag and leaned against the wall next to the black door of the former club, half obscuring a faded picture of an elaborate red dragon breathing fire around the entrance. Some way down the street he could see a brightly illuminated building, evaporating a bass line that made the concrete vibrate all the way to where he was standing. Ford checked his watch. Ten minutes past. Fashionably late. He briefly glanced at the car that was holding Hunt, Holt, and their police buddy, but kept himself from checking with the other strategically placed cops. They appeared to take this quite seriously. The fact that they had given him a gun was proof enough already, but the amount of police gave this business a certain enhanced gravity. Evans hadn't seemed all that conning at the bar. Just like a sad drunk bastard. Had he been wrong?

This was hardly a time to doubt himself, Ford realised when a figure peeled itself out of the shadow. Ford crushed the stub of his cigarette under his shoe and pushed himself off the wall. He wasn't quite used to being towered by someone, but this six foot three hulk of a guy did the job. It was Callum Reid.

"Hey, big guy," he greeted him. "Where did you leave the others?"

Instead of an answer the giant stepped closer and drew him into a hug.

He forced himself to laugh. "No need to get sentimental."

"Oh, believe me, I'm not."

In that moment James realised what was wrong. Maybe it had been wrong to decline the earpiece and respective comm connection, but he knew people like these would be looking for them. He tensed. "Can I get my gun back?"

"Sure," Reid replied, and rammed the weapon into Ford's back. "Once we're inside."

"The hell are you doing, Reid? It's me."

"Evans might still fall for you, but I figured you out long ago. And ever since I've just been waiting for you to reappear. I think it's time for a little talk. _Sawyer_ ," he added.

The barrel dug into his ribs again, and Ford found himself being pushed through the door.

/\/\/\/\

"Something's wrong," Skye said, watching Ford and Reid enter the building.

"Everything's gone as planned so far," Ethan reassured her.

A car drove past them, and parked right in front of the Dragon. Seconds later three laughing girls spilled out and disappeared down the street.

"I think we should go in now," the Dane said.

The police officer raised his eyebrows.

Ethan shook his head. "Give them five more minutes."

/\/\/\/\

"Look what we found," Evans said triumphantly, gesturing at the woman restrained by Schmitz and LeBlanc. The latter handed him the gun she'd been carrying, and Evans passed it on to the man who now stepped into the half-light, sending a gloom over his rusty hair. It was a miracle some of the old lamps that were designed to look like Old-Asian lampions were still working. Maybe the drug dealers had fixed them up at some point.

"Got one more," a deep voice sounded. Reid came into the big room that had once served as a dance floor, holding a resigned-looking Sawyer at gun-point.

"Hello, Sawyer," Evans couldn't help saying. "How was your date?"

"You hold him there. This one's a trouble-maker," Spoone said.

Sawyer looked from him to Jane, still held in place by two men, no longer struggling. She threw him a pleading glance. He faced Spoone again, who was now slowly stepping closer.

"You son of a bitch," Sawyer let out. "What kind of a sick game is this?!"

"It's not a game anymore, Mills," Evans said. "It never has been. I never believed Reid when he accused you, but when Spoone told me what you were up to-"

"When _what_?!" Sawyer shouted, sending an echo through the empty hall.

"I blew off the deal with the police," Spoone explained. "No one's out there. This isn't about them anymore. It's about y-"

He never got to finish the sentence for the man had freed himself from Reid and used the momentum of surprise to deliver a blow into his face that sent him tumbling sideways.

He started into Carter's direction, but Reid had recovered and held him back.

In that moment several doors were busted open and all hell broke loose.


	10. Chapter 10

"Benji!"

The Brit heaved himself up on one arm, rubbing his face, screwing up the mask even more than it already was. He felt hands on his shoulders, pulling him upright, and as gently as possible removing the remainders of Spoone's face, to reveal Skye's concerned features in front of him.

"Didn't see that one coming." He got upright. "I'm fine," he assured her when Skye attempted to steady him. During the shoot-out he had thought it smart to stay on the ground.

"You shouldn't con a con man," Ford was just saying, bad-tempered, to Ethan some way off. "It's bad luck, cap."

All around them, hand-cuffs clicked shut as the police squad restrained the remainders of Sydney's top con artists. Reid's shoulder had taken a bullet, they had already brought him out.

"We only found out that they knew about Hanaway after we'd recruited you," Jane said apologetically. "We knew they'd never let themselves be led into such an obvious trap."

" _Obvious_?" Ford repeated furiously.

"So Benji, that is, Spoone, approached Evans and Reid before your meeting, telling them that you were planning to set them up."

"A double bluff," Ford stated drily, then he groaned and looked at the ceiling.

The police officer had materialised next to them. "Good work, gentlemen."

" _Thank_ you," James snarled bluntly, gravely enjoying how confused the man looked at that. "Hold on a second," he then said, looking over the man's shoulder. "Where's Evans?"

"Who?" the officer said, who'd generally lost overview in the chaos of the shoot-out.

Ford and Hunt exchanged one look. Then they both started running.

/\/\/\/\

Molly Crown screamed. She screamed like she'd never screamed before in her life, voicing sudden appreciation at her parents' warnings not to come here in one deafening screech. It was short-lived however, because the guy who had dragged her out of her car now picked her up and threw her down with surprising force. Her head hit the pavement, and the scream got stuck in her throat.

/\/\/\/\

Evans couldn't believe his luck when he found the key still in the ignition. He wouldn't go to jail, not him. He slammed the door shut, but something was blocking it. A shoe. Angrily, he kicked it out, sending it the same way its teenage owner had gone moments before. He turned the key. The engine stirred to life – and died. He cursed, and tried again, and this time the Mini started properly. The grin returned.

/\/\/\/\

Hunt and Ford shot out of the Dusty Dragon just in time to see a car drive down the street. Not losing a second, Ethan ran to the nearest car belonging to the police squad, barely registering that Ford hurled himself into the shotgun seat, and hit the gas.

"The hell are you doing?!" Ford shouted when Ethan turned left at the next turn instead of following the Mini straight down the street.

He was taking a gamble, that's what.

/\/\/\/\

Skye, Jane and Benji were just fast enough to see the tail-lights of a dark Mercedes speed off with screeching tires. So much for the question where Ethan was.

Then Skye spotted the girl. She was struggling to get up, holding her head, tears streaming down her face. She shrank back when Skye bent down to her.

"It's okay, don't worry, we're from the police," she told her.

The girl simply nodded, still sobbing, and let Skye help her up. Blood from a wound above her eye was creeping down her face and already dropping onto her black and white striped shirt.

"He was just there," she breathed, apparently terrified. "He just dragged me out."

"You're safe now," Skye tried to calm her down. "What's your name?"

"Molly," Molly managed.

"Here, Molly," Jane said and took off her light scarf. "Press this to your head."

The girl obeyed, slowly calming down.

"Don't worry, you'll be fine," Skye promised. "We'll get you to the hospital."

Suddenly, the girl stiffened, seemingly breaking out of her shock. "That bastard took my car," she stated calmly, and before anyone could react, Molly started running into the direction Evans had taken.

/\/\/\/\

Ethan had been right at predicting the Evans' route. By turning left and right again, and accelerating to all the Mercedes got, he would cut off the Mini. They had rounded the block on different sides, and he and Ford had been faster. He sped onto the T-junction, bringing the car to a sudden stop in the middle of the road, blocking off the Mini that was rapidly coming towards them. Out of habit, Ford turned on the siren. Better late than never, he figured. Only neither of them could have anticipated what Evans would do in his panic.


	11. Chapter 11

The other three agents had commandeered another incognito police car to scoop up Molly and follow the others. The girl was determined to see what had become of her car. She was most likely concussed and naturally still in shock, and therefore hardly lucid, so they'd decided to go along with it while really taking her to the hospital, asap.

"That's them, isn't it?" Benji asked, and pulled over when he saw the black Mercedes blocking the lane. The two men stood at the broken crash barrier. In the distance, approaching sirens could already be heard.

Molly fought her way out of the car.

"Police," Ethan and James said simultaneously when they saw her.

"What have you done to him?!" the girl asked horrified, ignoring the badges waved at her, her voice about an octave higher than it usually was. She'd joined them in staring down the overpass, at the bent green and silver metal several meters below. The Mini's hazard lights were rhythmically flashing through the streetlight-soaked night. Smoke was curling from somewhere out of the wreck.

"I'm afraid he did that himself," Ethan said as calmly as he could.

"Not the guy, my car!"

"Him?" Ford repeated. "That's a she if I've ever seen one."

Immediately she hurled herself in direction of Ford, obviously in the mood to pick a fight. She was either brave or stupid, Jane couldn't quite decide. Either way, she decided to not let this come to a show-down, and held her back.

"Don't worry. You'll get a new one. You'll be fine."

"I _was_ fine, before you wrecked my car!"

"She's right," Ford suddenly chuckled. "Everything was perfectly fine before Evans pulled his Italian Job."

"It's not funny," she now sobbed. She freed herself from Jane and slumped down on the pavement, staring down at the wrecked car that had hit the lower lane nose first and looked thoroughly smashed. "God, I feel sick…"

"The moral," Skye said into Ethan's direction, "never get between a girl and her car. Come on, let me see that again," she said and bent down to the redhead. "We should get you to the hospital."

"Worst. Evening. Ever," she said quietly, while the first ambulance stopped next to them.

/\/\/\/\

"What's on your mind?" Benji asked.

Skye had insisted of personally accompanying Molly to the hospital, and he had come along. Now that the girl was taken care of, the bad guys either in custody or about to wake up handcuffed to a hospital bed, and things generally calming down, they could finally relax and make their way back to their base for one last night at their sleazy place before returning to D.C. Finally some time, Skye found, to order her own thoughts.

"Jane said something on the plane. About how long it takes to be okay again. That got me thinking. I mean, if it hadn't been for you..."

"Skye-"

"No, I mean it. Nothing had changed even 18 months after Connor's death, it wouldn't have gotten better any time after that. If I hadn't met you, who knows what I would have done."

Benji didn't like the way that sounded. "Don't say that."

"You brought me back to myself. Did I ever thank you for that?"

"Feather, you don't have to-"

Again, she didn't let him finish. She kissed him softly. It was only brief, but infinitely sweet. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," he whispered while their lips were still touching.

"I love you," Skye said quietly.

He smiled. "I know."

That earned him quite a shove, which made him laugh. "I love you, too," he added conciliatory before he moved to steal another small kiss.

"Idiot," she said, but had to smile.

"Hey, if you're Dr. Schneider, does that mean I'm Indiana Jones?"

Skye burst out laughing. "Don't get any ideas, mister," she chuckled.

"That totally makes me Indy," Benji stated, but found he didn't quite care after all when Skye kissed him again.


	12. Chapter 12

"Can't sleep, huh?"

To Jane's horror, Ford was sitting down next to her. She didn't feel like talking and motioned across the room to where Benji and Skye were sleeping.

"I doubt anything could wake those two as long as they've got their Spy Who Loved Me thing going," he said with a hint of his grin, but he did lower his voice. He ran a hand through his hair, not yet used to having it so short. It was a gesture that was so much like Hanaway that Jane looked back out of the window. "I hate to say it, but that was pretty clever what you did there," he grumbled. "It wasn't nice, and it sure as hell wasn't decent, but it was _damn_ clever."

Carter showed no reaction.

Ford sighed heavily, and decided to get to the point. "I lost someone, too, you know. She, um... she was..." He didn't find the right words. "I wanted to ask her to marry me. She died in my arms. Nothing I could do. ...Your friends told me you were with my brother when he died."

Jane turned to face him again, even though she really could hardly look at him. It was like sitting with a ghost. The darkness only enhanced that effect.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Just wanna let you know that I know what it feels like. It sucks, right?" For the first time she felt his smile was genuine, and had to laugh weakly at his simplified way to put it.

"Yes, it does."

"Well." He was still smiling. "At least they weren't alone, right?"

Jane nodded thoughtfully. "How did she die? Your girlfriend."

He chuckled tiredly. "That's such a long story, I don't even know where to start."

"We don't have to talk about it."

"No, um... there was... there was a cave-in, so to say. She got buried by the debris. I got to her eventually but her injuries were too heavy."

"I'm really sorry."

"It was a long time ago."

Jane was quiet for a bit. "When... when Trevor... He got shot by an assassin during a mission. I reached him seconds later but it was already too late. I hunted her down. His killer. So that he could have peace."

"Revenge can do horrible things to you," he said, with a trace of bitterness. "But it can help immensely to get it. We might have more in common than you think." Then he laughed again. "Funny how life plays out sometimes, ain't it?"

"I wouldn't say funny, exactly."

"I mean, it could have been me in his place." Jane's look made it clear that she didn't catch his meaning. "If he'd been where I grew up, and I'd been in his place instead... who knows how things would have come."

Jane looked away again.

"He never mentioned me, did he?"

Carter shook her head. "Never. All I could find out from the lawyers was that he put you into his will only a couple of months before he died. My best guess is that he only found out about you then and hadn't gotten around to telling me yet."

"You were pretty close, huh?"

Jane nodded.

"Hm. He probably learned that he was adopted. Looked up his real family. Found the reports about the murder and the suicide. Read about the eight-year-old kid." He shrugged. "Then again, maybe I'm the adopted one. Maybe my fucked up family wasn't even my real family."

"Don't think about that. It's gonna drive you crazy."

"Damn right it will," he chuckled, and to his surprise Jane smiled too.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure." He motioned her to go ahead.

"When she died... your girlfriend... did she say something to you?"

James looked as if he wasn't entirely sure if he should answer. "Yeah," he said eventually.

"Does it haunt you?"

Their eyes locked. "More than anything."

Neither of them said anything for several minutes, but this time it didn't feel awkward.

It was James who broke the silence. "You know, his alias – David Mills. He picked that himself?"

Jane looked a bit puzzled at the sudden change of topic. "Yes. Why?"

"It's from Seven. You know, the movie? Brad Pitt as Detective Mills? Brilliant flick."

"I didn't know that."

"Just trying to say, maybe he and I ain't all that different after all."

"Maybe," she agreed after a couple of seconds. By now it was easier to look at him.

"Does your offer still stand?"

"What offer?" she asked, and her eyes indicated that he had to be careful what he said now.

"You said if you were me you'd find out what you could about Trevor. And considering that your buddies didn't know him half as good as you, I don't see a lot of options. 'cause I take it we won't meet again all that soon," he added.

Jane hesitated, and looked at him thoroughly. He seemed to be serious. Then, she started talking.

/\/\/\/\

Miserably, Molly Crown opened the front door, about to get her bike out of the shed to _ride_ to school, like some sort of wild animal. Only when she looked up from the ground, where her gaze had been stuck ever since her car had been murdered a couple of weeks ago, she noticed that the driveway was blocked – by a brand-new Mini. Black and white, and sparkling in the sun. Even the little X-Wing was happily dangling from the rear-view mirror.

Molly didn't even know how to react. Secretly convinced that she was imagining this, she stepped closer, brushed a hand over the sun-warmed hood and marvelled at the unexpected. A note was stuck beneath the wiper. She plucked it out, unfolded it, and only when she saw the neat handwriting that read _Sorry it's not green_ , she broke into a deafening cheer.

* * *

 _Author's Note: As always, thank you so much for reading my story. Mange tak to Ellster for beta-reading and the extra advertising boost this time, you're the best._


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